Tower Of Baghdad Poem by Willem VanVoorthuysen

One day, an angel will appear and take
those cool dark glasses from your eyes,
the mask that hides your creeping fear
that gold, nor sweat, nor persuasion,
nor clever games, nor brutal power,
will save the sagging base of human pride
on which you built your royal tower,
in tribute to yourself...

And then, perhaps, you'll understand
and, trembling, bow your head
and, weeping, see your mighty tower tumble.
Like all man's monuments to man,
it once must crash, its concrete crumble,
its dust be scattered by the winds
And never will you build again
upon mere sand...